“Who invited the logistics guard?” a man in a navy suit called from the head table.

Linda laughed, a sharp sound that pulled two board members over to our group.

“Don’t mind my niece, Arthur,” Linda told the man.

“She pushes supply files in a back office somewhere down south.”

At one fifteen Daniel came into the room with a black leather portfolio tucked under his arm.

He knocked his heavy gold ring against the glass of the water pitcher by the door.

“Put the celebration cake by the podium,” Daniel told the catering server in his loud, booming voice.